


Old Home

by numbika



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Body Horror, Everything Hurts, Kinda, nothing is right, this took me 3 months to write it but I'm kinda proud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 20:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19384279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/numbika/pseuds/numbika
Summary: There were sounds from behind the door at the end of the corridor."We have to go further."Henry couldn't figure out who or what spoke. It was both human, and inhuman at the same time.He held the flashlight tighter in his hand, and approached the door."We need to go." Said another thing, but using the same voice. "We have to find him."





	Old Home

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter for my Later that night fic, but it can be a standalon story. I saw https://meldrix.tumblr.com 's art and I really wanted to write something with Michael and the gang in him, however I choose to write it from Henry's point of view. It was fun to wrote it, I hope it'll be fun to read it.

The run-down black Ford slowly turned onto the driveway in front of the house.

Henry drove through the deserted road, which led deep into the cluster of trees, he felt more unsettled by the minute. As he finally reached his destination, he felt as if he left everything civilized behind. When he got out of the car, he found himself in front of an abandoned home. The grass was worn out in a couple of places but not far from the house amidst the trees the grass was overgrown. The paint on the house was faded, and the windows were covered with thick, grey cobwebs.

That evening the weather was especially cold. The wind tucked at his hair and wormed itself under his jacket. Shivering he pulled the jacket tighter, as the chill ran across his back. For a moment he glanced at the car. He wanted to get out of here, go as far as he could. Nor his old friend's ghostly house, nor the balding trees surrounding it were particularly inviting.

He sighed rubbing his face.

"God damn it man, pull yourself together." Instead of the car's door he made his way towards the trunk and took out a crowbar and a flashlight. He looked around again, Afton's home was at the end of a long side street, the house far from the main road. Henry still remembered when he was bragging about how fortunate he was to find this place, where he could work quietly, where the children can have plenty of room, and where they could live happily.

Henry squeezed the cold metal in his hand and headed toward the door. He could not shake the feeling of someone watching him. He stopped in front of the entrance, it was slightly ajar. From one moment to the next, his instincts were switched on and they screamed that he shouldn't be here, that needs to get away. Forget about the house, don't cross the threshold of this house, because if he does, he might find something that he could never turn his back to.

Someone was in the house recently, or even worse, was still there. Henry's heart began to beat faster and faster. He needed for a few moments to calm himself down, so he could something else, not just his heartbeat. He held the cold metal in his hand tighter, and barred the thoughts behind a mental door, just as like of the psychologists he talked to after the tragedy taught him. Inside his mind, a lock clinked, and he opened the real door only a moment later.

He entered the house silently, the sour smell of mildew immediately hit his nose. Air even colder from the one outside spilled out and wrapped around his body.

Turning on the flashlight, he walked in, but he left the front door open. He needed a way out from there, he had to have one, otherwise he was sure he wouldn't be able to take another step.

The house was had two story. Henry looked up the stairs leading to the darkness and decided to check the ground floor first.

His journey led to the kitchen first, here most of the objects were untouched, just covered with a thick coat of dust. There were three plates on the kitchen table probably waiting there for who know how many years, with more cutlery, plates and spices in the desks. Next door to the kitchen, there was a bathroom, similarly intact but dusty. There were several toothbrushes in a glass on the washbasin, one adult sized and two children, as Henry could tell. On the edge of the bathtub, shampoo and shower gel bottles lined up.

Leaving the hallway, he slowly scanned the walls with the light of the lamp. In the past, photos of the family might have lined the walls, but someone took the time to bash down all of them. Sometimes, under Henry's boot-sole, a piece of glass cracked.

In the past, this home was full of life. Henry looked around in the lonely living room, with a grim expression on his face. The sofas could have been tasteful in a long time ago. There used to be a large family living here. They were happy, at least that's how he remembered them. A big, loud, happy family. But who knows how much was actually true about all of that. He wasn't sure he ever really known William.

Moving on he found an another door at the end of the house, it was locked, and no matter how tried to opened by hand or crowbar it didn’t budge. This entrance was made to be much sturdier, to his surprised there wasn't any dust on it, and it seemed to have been used to this day. He only noticed the scratch marks around the lock when he directed the light of the lamp to it. He looked down at the crowbar in his hand, but his thoughts were halted, by a sudden noise. Steps on the floor above.

Blood froze in Henry's veins. He gripped the crowbar and flashlight tighter and started towards the front door, almost running. He was about to leave the place. He didn't want to became a hero, he didn't even know why he wanted to come here at all in the first place. But then, the light of the lamp swept over a piece of cloth in the corner of the living room. The fabric had been fading for a long time, but Henry's memories didn't care.

The pale green color flooded his mind and reached his soul, there a wound so far buried was tore open with renewed pain. He felt his throat becoming dry, his eyes started to sting a little. The light of the lamp trembled on the piece of cloth. In front of his eyes, the image of the bracelet and of the alley surfaced. He was sure that icy rain drops tapped on his back. When he looked down at his feet, a red stream trickled between his feet.

However, as soon as the pictures appeared as soon they faded away. He blinked away his tears and found himself in William Afton's house again. The place of fear was taken over by the anger, the fire was just smoldering inside him all this time, but now it flared up to be just as strong as it was after the evening.

Squeezing the lamp and the metal of the crowbar in his hands he headed upstairs. He tried to make his pace as quite as possible, reaching the second floor, he held his breath at the last step. He reconed he will find the bedrooms here. He run the light along the walls and to his feet all the while fidgeting from nervousness. As he walked into the darkness, his grip around the crowbar became tighter and tighter. He felt better as if the tighter he can hold onto the metal of it, the more he will be able to defend himself if the need arises.

Deep inside of his heart, he hoped and prayed both that he finds William here, and that he won't. He wanted to tell him so much, and had so many questions. On sleepless nights, the only thing that brought him some peace of mind was when he imagined how will he make him pay for everything. But after every night like that, he woke up drenched in his sweat, after a dream where their animatronics chased him through endless labyrinths. And all of them spoke in the voice of little children.

The first room – that might have been the parents at least based on the big French bed - was empty. He continued down the corridor, walking past an ancient clock. The wallpaper was yellowed with age, and had been crumbling in some places. He wanted to light the hallway in front of him and behind at the same time. Form the darkness, his imagination conjured figures, waiting to jump at him. Just like his nightmares.

There were sounds from behind the door at the end of the corridor.

"We have to go further."

Henry couldn't figure out who or _what_ spoke. It was both human, and inhuman at the same time.

He held the flashlight tighter in his hand, and approached the door.

"We need to go." Said another thing, but using the same voice. "We have to find _him_."

"We have to stop **him**."

"We have to take revenge."

The sounds mixed with each other, but they were all equally impatient.

Henry swallowed slowly, and quietly, trying to suppress even that sound that they wouldn’t hear it. Whatever was in the room, it wasn't human. He squeezed the crowbar harder, and between to heartbeats stepped out of hiding. He found himself in the children's room door.

"You..." Henry's felt weak for a moment. He looked at the creature that stood a few steps in front of him. "...William?"

The eyes of the being flickered in pale pink light, and before Henry could react, it was already on him. IT struck the flashlight from his hand and pushed him against the wall. The impact knocked the breath out of him, and he fell to the floor. Gasping for air, he looked up into the inhuman eyes of the creature

" **I** AM NOT **HIM**!"

"Wat-" An instinct coming from his subconscious urged him to jump towards his dropped flashlight. He heard the wall cracking behind from a blow.

" **WE** ARE **NOT HIM**!" Repeated the thing its voice reverberating with rage.

Henry, taking the flashlight in his hand, managed to retreat from the creature to light at it. The appearance was right, it wasn't William Afton, _it_ seemed much younger.

"Wa-wait...you!"

The creature stopped a couple of steps away, its hands clenched into fists, in its right clutching a picture. His skin split open in several places, he was covered all the way to his neck. Now that Henry had a better look at the creature, he saw the purple lips, the blackened skin underneath his eyes. He would have sworn that the meat and skin had rotten off and he saw a metallic skeleton beneath. The flashlight in his hand trembled when he looked at the wounded face. The young man's face, eyes glowing pink, did not shape the words with his lips sounds just come from his mouth.

"You helped HIM!" it growled.

"I-?" Henry stepped back when the apparition closed on him. Suddenly, recognition flashed inside his mind almost knocking him of his feet. He was frozen in place as the creature was getting closer.

"You! …you, you are Michael Afton. Oh my God! Oh God...What happened to you? You...you are not... you couldn't…"

Michael, or perhaps the creature wearing his face, stopped a few steps away. He turned its head sideways a little, looking at the man standing in front of him.

"Michael died."

Henry's heart missed a beat. "But you…?"

"Like his sister Elizabeth."

"This is not..."

"We died, but we stuck here. Just as Suzie, Jeremy, Gabriel, and the others stuck with us. And Charlie too."

Besides Henry-s leg the crowbar thudded to the floor. The words echoed in his mind, with every new one becoming louder. His body did not want to obey him, and his flashlight started to slowly slip out of his fingers too.

"What are you talking about?"

Children and adult voices blended in the creature's tone.

"We are stuck here because he needed souls, he knows how to _use_  the souls."

"Use…them?"

"Charlie was particularly strong, she really wanted to live. She was close to them." For a moment, the creature stared at nothing, its voice softened. "She was the one who gave us a gift, so we…they could have their revenge. So we can make him pay for everything."

The creature's words forced Henry on his knees.

"And now, Michael given us another chance. He's dead, but he won't die, not yet. We'll find **him**. When he dies, so will we. Then we can finally move on."

"I-I burned the place…The fire…it destroyed everything." Henry lowered his head muttering to himself

"Yes, but he didn't die. He's still alive and looking for his next victim."

Michael's body stepped past Henry, then stopped. "Every answer is there in that room." A key rattled falling onto the floor. "We've already seen everything, what will you do, is on you." The creature moved forward, past Henry, but stopped one last time, and the souls inside it spoke.

"I'm sorry, _Henry_."

"I'm sorry, _Uncle Henry_."

"Take care of yourself, _Uncle Henry_."

" _ **Don't stand in our way**_."

The apparition walked down the stairs, and headed out the house, leaving the front door open.

Henry picked up the keys and the crowbar with tears in his eyes. He didn't remember approaching the closed door, nor did he remember when he put the key into the lock. His legs took him down a staircase that could have led to a basement, but instead when he entered the room at the end of it, he found a waking nightmare.

In the room, there must have been lockers neatly lining every wall but now everything was toppled down. Files and file holders covered the floor. Among them, pieces of a broken computer were scattered. The lights of the flashlight illuminated a torn blueprient.

Henry knelt between the scattered pages with a monotone almost robotic motion and began to read. At first the records seemed disjointed and meaningless, but soon the picture slowly assembled itself. The documents contained data about children who disappeared from the pizzeria. Henry immediately recognized the names and faces, he seen the photos countless times. The parents and the policemen pushed them under his nose to see if: _he really saw them? You really don't recognize their face? You really don't know where they could have been before their disappearance?_

William has thoroughly researched every child. All basic information on them was inside the files, their birth date, age, and parents' names. Then there was what school they went to. Their friends name, their friend's families' name. Afton then compared these data and tried to find the power of the soul.

He had to put the folder aside. He felt worse and worse as he read about the lives of murdered children through the records of their murderer. And a small part of himself was afraid to run into his daughter's folder.

Other files from the mounds of paper covered animatronics. From their structure, through the basic idea of their creation, to the time most of them were decommissioned. All-important moments of their existence were recorded. There was their programming, every small bug and glitch, and the improvement that William and Henry made on them together.

The next parts of the documents were completely new to him. William was studying the nature of souls. He seemed to be obsessed with these files. There were suggestions that the human soul could be collected and tied to objects, if that person died of a particularly violent death. According to his assumptions, this statement was particularly true for children. He proposed that, young children are the best subjects if one is searching for souls with this potential, because an innocent soul untainted by experience of the world, must be much stronger.

"William, what have you done?" He whispered to himself, but even that seemed to echo in the empty room.

He felt himself drifting farther and farther from reality with every section he read. As if he had entered a horror story from which he might never escape.

He lost track of the passage of time. When he walked up the stairs and stepped out from the door of the house, the rays of the sun blinded him for a moment. Blinking and squinting he staggered to his car. He threw a bunch of folded pages and folders into the back seat along with the key, flashlight and crowbar.

The car's engine sputtered and revved as he left behind Afton's house, it was slowly getting consumed by fire and smoke. He was sure he had to do this. Destroy everything, burn everything to dust that has ever had a connection with Fready Fazbear and the two of them.

That was the only way it could end, but there was still much to do until then.


End file.
